Rays of Yesterday

➸Chapter Four: Flightless Birds

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
...signifying nothing."

The days of fossil sunlight were still present, but this time, Sylvia thought it was rather challenging to find any remaining light as if it had all finally faded away.

Sylvia wanted to rid herself of her heart. She had thought about it for some time and wondered why she hadn't considered it sooner. Surely the act will grant her the desired result of death, the sticky sweet, deep slumber. Though she was technically an undead creature already, her heart still beat faintly, but it beat and pumped chilled blood throughout her veins nonetheless. Removal of one of the only valuable organs she still possessed should cease all lively functions, the idea was alluring, but Sylvia knew it would be difficult to do on her own. I must at least try. She encouraged. Her heart was the thing that had betrayed her and truly made her a spirit of the woods; it was a reminder of how much she hated herself for being so blind, both figuratively and now quite literally to an extent. It was a painful reminder of the betrayal she bestowed on her family that snuck inside her conscience every time she looked at Hawke.

Hawke...

A strong wave of tightness arose in Sylvia's chest, traveling up to the trachea and making the air in her bedroom thin. How would Hawke feel? Could this be yet another treachery? She pondered; the thought of her older brother only grew her guilt. Sylvia forced him to become a nocturnal animal with her; she was terrified to continue alone and did not know how to live without her brother. She was impulsive and selfish; she only realized it after his temporarily lifeless body was cradled in her trembling arms while profusely apologizing between the violent weeping.

The image still haunted her.

Sylvia's eyes stung, and the build-up of tears threatening to form and spill over had become too much to bear from the multiple negative memories that started to swarm her mind rapidly. With a shallow and shaky breath, Sylvia slowly brought her left hand up from her side and settled it over her chest, where her heart was. Looking at the ceiling above, cloudy eyes transitioned into a deep scarlet red with hard, black pupils. She moved aside the dandelion-yellow fabric of her square neckline. She began to scratch a rather large line over her heart, over and over again, with her middle finger, progressively scratching rougher and harder as seconds passed. Then Sylvia became more desperate, stabbing her serrated fingernails into her cold and irritated flesh before curling the digits under openings of the skin that she eventually created, stretching them as far as she could to make the open wound larger. Sylvia held her breath to suppress the groans while her bare hands damaged her body. Flesh and soft fat snapped. A frigid substance oozed from the ugly wound she actively tried to make even bigger, it acted as blood, but the color was nearly black; it had stained her gown and hands.

Unfortunately, Sylvia underestimated herself, her being. Her efforts were futile, as the skin and tissues she had managed to rip through started to heal and repair themselves faster than they usually did when she was hurt. Sylvia felt like she could not keep up, she tried desperately to keep the wound open long enough for her to break through a few muscles and her rib cage to snag her heart, but her body refused to grant her that wish. And because Sylvia's desperation and determination soon withered into further devastation, the damage done to her skin with the repetitive pattern resulted in a scar-like tissue forming on her slightly exposed chest. The scar was of two simple lines just above her left breast and a rapidly beating, heavy heart.

Sylvia allowed her hands to fall limply over her sternum, and a drawn-out huff escaped her glass lungs. A hungry phantom unsatisfied, still yearning for serenity to enter.